Tormented
by Tehdarkpyros
Summary: Rachel is new to McKinely and is closed off and bitter due to a difficult past. On her first day at her new school she manages to grab the attention of the head cheerleader, Santana. Is this a good thing or a bad thing though? And what does Rachel keep scribbling in those mini notebooks she carries around? Happy thoughts or stories where the characters are as tormented as she is?
1. The Meeting

'She was sitting in the restaurant with her family, eating peacefully. A little sixteen year old girl who no one thought much of. She was the first to hear the door burst open as everyone was told to get on the ground. Everyone listened, but her dads of course. They continued to chat and ignore the men with guns. She reached up, pulling them down beside her. Hiram pulled out his phone and started calling 911. Her eyes widened as it was on speaker and she rushed to end the call. She didn't get there in time and the gunmen opened fire on her and her fathers. The bullets struck Hiram and LeRoy first, ending their lives. They only grazed the girl and she pretended to be dead so she wouldn't be shot again and killed.' The scenario played over and over in Rachel's mind as she walked into her new school. She was wearing a pair of tight fitting, ripped black jeans, a pair of beaten up, blood stained white converse and a white tank top that clung perfectly to her toned body. She kept to herself, trying to avoid confrontation with anyone who seemed to be high up at this school. Little did she know, the head cheerleader was already looking for her. She continued walking until she hit a solid body, causing her to stumble backwards. She fell back onto the ground and looked up at a startlingly intimidating Latina glaring down at her. Rachel stood, brushing herself off and slinging her bag back over her shoulder. "Can I help you?" She asked, quirking an eyebrow as she glared back at the girl. Everyone seemed to watch them, seeing what would happen. She was led to assume by this that the girl was high up on the social ladder here.

The girl narrowed her eyes and took a step toward Rachel, "You the new chick who's a supposed bad ass?" She tightened her ponytail and put her hands on her hips before raising a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. There was definitely a certain sass to her that Rachel had never seen in a girl. She nodded, "I'm the new girl who is a badass. And I would suggest you watch where you're going if you don't want me to help you out with a little New York hospitality. I suppose you're some sort of big shot here though?"

The Latina nodded, playing with her ponytail, "Yeah. I'm the head cheerleader. I'm also from Lima Heights Adjacent so I'd watch your step or you'll get some Lima Heights hospitality. Got it hotshot?" She straightened up to show the height difference between her and Rachel, more than likely in an attempt to intimidate the short brunette. But Rachel wasn't falling for it. She squared her shoulders and gave the cheerleader a smirk. She stepped forward and looked her dead in the eye as she spoke, "I'll be frightened of you when pigs fly closet case." She moved off to the side and walked down the hall, everyone staring after her, the girl's mouth gaped open. No one had expected her to be a legitimate badass.

When Rachel reached her first class everyone had already heard about her. They stared as she entered and took a seat toward the back, pulling out a heavily worn notebook and writing in it, trying to ignore everyone around her. It was something she always did now a days. Since she was forced to move in with her birthmother, Shelby Corcoran and move to Lima, Ohio instead of staying with her girlfriend at the time, Stella. She wasn't thrilled to be here and she was even less thrilled that as soon as she was told she was moving Stella broke up with her. She had said she couldn't handle long distance things. Rachel just thought she'd been being used for her connections.

Rachel felt a body slip into the empty seat beside her but she didn't look up. She continued her scribbling on the paper, quickly filling the page and flipping to the next. The person beside her peered over, "What'cha writing newbie?" The voice taunted. It ground at her and she clenched her jaw to keep from looking over. She wouldn't acknowledge their presence. She wouldn't give them that satisfaction. She felt the notebook be torn from her hands and she turned then to face the person.

The person had a smirk on her face as she paged through the notebook, "You know you wanna be badass..Unless you're going for the sensitive badass type... badasses don't write in tiny little pocket notebooks." Rachel's eyes narrowed and she snatched the notebook back. She turned her back to the girl. It was the Latina from earlier. She wasn't interested in having a fight on her first day. Shelby would kill her and she didn't need the older version of herself mad. Not yet. Looking back down at the notebook she could feel the girl's eyes on her. She attempted to ignore it but it finally grated on her too much and she spun to face the girl. "What do you want? What is so interesting about me that you keep staring?"

The girl furrowed her brow, attempting to feign innocence, "I have no idea what you're talking about. I wasn't staring at you or your stupid mini notebook." Just as she finished speaking the teacher came in, five minutes late. He was certainly odd looking. Curled hair, vest, attempting to speak in Spanish. The girl beside Rachel groaned, correcting him in fluent Spanish. Rachel was impressed with the girl, although she didn't show it. "Thank you Santana. Although I don't think you should be correcting the Spanish teacher on his Spanish." The man said as he gave a tight smile to this girl, Santana. Rachel shrugged it off, replying in place of the girl, in fluent Spanish, "I think that someone who is more fluent in the language should be teaching it then." It was the first time she had spoken during the class and everyone turned to face her, most with confusing looks on their faces, while Santana's jaw hung open.

Rachel looked at them, glaring, "What? I'm allowed to state an opinion. And my opinion is, as someone fluent in Spanish, French, German, Russian and Hebrew; someone more qualified should be teaching this class." She shrugged and looked back down to her notebook. After a few moments of silence Santana raised an eyebrow, "And how are you fluent in all of those?"

The diva turned to the Latina and smirked, replying in fluent Spanish, "That's for me to know and you to find out sweetheart." She winked before looking back down at her notebook, scribbling more onto it as she filled up another page. She was nearing the end of this notebook, but she had three others in her bag, two of which were filled and well worn like the one she held now. "Miss Rachel Berry, was it?" The teacher asked, hands on his hips. She nodded, not looking up as he continued, "I think for your attitude and not paying attention to my lecture you have earned yourself a detention. Please come to the front and sign the slip." Rachel slipped her notebook into her bag and stood, walking to the front to sign the slip. "I don't see why this is necessary or why I have to even take this class. I'm obviously more fluent than you. Possibly more so than the Latina I sit next to. So I'll sign your slip but don't count on me showing up."

Santana raised a hand, looking to Rachel, "You think you're more fluent than I am in Spanish? My first language? I'm sorry.. Who are you and what in the world gave you that idea? Because it's an impossibility. You're some little Jewish wannabe badass and I'm sure your parents give you whatever you want because they don't want you to throw a tantrum. Right?" Rachel's eyes hardened and she broke the pen as she signed the paper. She stood straight up, a fire in her eyes that would make any normal person cringe. Most of the class did but Santana had gone back to filing her nails. She obviously wanted to seem superior to Rachel and it wasn't going to happen. She wanted Rachel to break. She wanted to show that she could make anyone feel inferior.

Rachel shook off the urge to snap at her and reveal parts of her life. She wouldn't tell them anything. They'd have to read her stories just to find snippets of real life events. She wouldn't allow herself to become close enough to someone to tell them what truly happened. She moved back to her seat, grabbing the metal nail file and snapping it in her hand before she looked to the front of the room. Santana stared at the smashed metal that laid on her desk and Rachel chuckled quietly. She would keep amazing the girl, show her she couldn't be broken.

'That's it Rachel. Keep up the bravado. Keep up the walls. They can't see what lies underneath.' She thought as she wrote, trying to act bored when really she was running through what Santana had said in her head. She had never been like the girl had suggested. She was always a quiet kid, keeping to her writing and her music as a young kid and teen. But there was something to her tone that suggested that she knew it would make Rachel falter slightly. There was a mocking tone to it. All she'd done was bump into the girl, not kill her dog and hang it on her front porch. There was no rhyme or reason to Santana's actions, unless she'd felt threatened or had information on Rachel already. Rachel shook it off as the bell rang, slipping her bag onto her shoulder and grabbing a new notebook, having filled up the one in her hand. She put the filled one in with the other two and walked from the room, immediately seeing the bulletin board. There was a sign for a show choir up. To Rachel that meant performing and possibly getting access to a guitar since her birthmother wouldn't allow her to play the Fender in the practice room. She wrote her name down and heard a chuckle from behind her. She thought nothing of it as she walked down the hall to her next class, not being able to keep from wondering what song she should sing. An original? Or one that she had prepared already. The original was a risky one, one that could give things away or show too much emotion, but so could the prepared piece. She sighed, resolving to just decide during her free period before lunch and her audition.


	2. Free Period

Rachel took a deep breath as she slipped into the auditorium for her free period. She'd gotten through second and third period without an issue and now she got to work on her audition for the show choir. She walked up the steps to the stage and smiled as she saw a guitar and a piano. She slipped the guitar strap over her head and strummed lightly. The guitar was out of tune, majorly. Rachel ran a hand through her hair, tuning it with a frustrated sigh.

When the guitar was tuned she strummed lightly and with her back to the seats she sang. Her song choice wasn't one that she would have chosen a few months ago. When her fathers were alive. Of course, it was written in their memory so it wouldn't have been written a few months ago. She didn't hear the bell ring as she continued to run through her repertoire. Her back was still to the crowd as she ended, shaking her head. "No. It has to be a prepared one. These are... way too personal."

"Oh.. I don't know.. They seem to have the most connection to you as well.." A voice said from behind her. Rachel turned to see a very fashionable boy standing, staring at her. Her eyes hardened, wiping away any trace of vulnerability left in them. She pulled off the guitar and looked down at him. "I'm Kurt Hummel by the way. And if you're singing a prepared piece might I suggest Chasing Pavements by Adele? It fits with the current theme you have going and you could still make a connection to it."

"I.. thanks. I think. I'm Rachel." She hopped off the stage, landing without a noise, a slight, wary smile on her face. She took a step toward him, extending her hand, "You're the third person to talk to me today. And the first not to get mad."

Kurt shrugged, laughing softly. He shook her hand before slipping his hand into his pockets, "Well, you haven't shown me up like you did with Santana or piss me off like you also did with Santana. So I have no reason to be mad at you. I'd be warned though, she's our female lead and the Spanish teacher is the director. So-"

He was cut off as Rachel groaned, "I upset both of them. He gave me detention for snapping at him. His Spanish is so bad it was grating on my ears. I couldn't stand it..." Kurt just nodded before the doors opened again and a black girl came in, ranting about someone dumping her tots on the floor. Rachel raised an eyebrow but thought nothing of it as she hopped back onto the stage. She sat on top of the piano with the guitar. Kurt stood in front of the girl who'd just come in, calming her down and promising to buy her more tots after school. Rachel couldn't help but chuckle softly at the scene. This upset the girl and she stormed to the stage, "What's so funny little white girl?" She was fuming but Rachel just kept chuckling.

"Well," Rachel said as she smirked down at her, "I find it funny that this entire scene seems to be something from some sort of comedy. Romantic or otherwise. This entire day. It's the sort of thing you'd read in a book or watch on the silver screen. What with me showing up the resident badass, who seems to be the head cheerleader as well. I'm going to assume she's probably dating the Quarterback or she's a major flirt who sleeps around. And she has both boys and girls falling all over her and she's mad that I come in and take the attention from her." Playing with her shoelaces she trailed off before she started describing who her character would be.

Kurt did it for her with an amused chuckle, "And what would that make you? The girl who grew up in a loving home? Someone who kept to themselves all their life and didn't have anyone talk to them until some terrible event happened? Something that turned you into a cold hearted badass? Something your parents would hate? What event would have caused it though? A girlfriend broke up with you? Someone died? You had connections but you couldn't keep up your end of the deal so they threw you to the dogs?"

There were tears in Rachel's eyes as she kept her head down, not looking up or speaking to him as he continued to question her. After a few minutes she'd composed herself and her eyes were hardened, "You hit the nail on the head. That's who I'd be expected to be." She didn't say if it was true or not. She had to keep up the walls. They would not fall for anyone. Not even Shelby, who berated her with questions every night.

"Well, is it true?" The black girl asked with a certain amount of sass that really irritated Rachel. She hated people who thought they could sass her. She looked to her, replying in Russian this time, "I really don't think that's any of your business so I suggest you back off and let me be before it gets you in trouble." The girl just looked at her confused before she went back to ranting to Kurt. Rachel tuned them out, pulling out her newest notebook. It was less worn than the others but the wear and tear was apparant on it. Since second period she'd made a good dent in the number of empty pages, labelling the notebook like she'd done with the others. She took a deep breath as the taunting voice filled the air, "Hey wannabe. That a new notebook? What? Did you rip your other one?"

"No. I filled it. Is that a problem?" She snapped as she continued to write, never looking up. She wasn't going to sing anymore until her audition. She ran through her choices in her head as she wrote but no one was going to hear her until she was auditioning. None of them had earned her trust enough for her to sing to them. Simple as that.

She could feel eyes on her as more people took seats in the audience. She just needed the director to come in so she could audition. She put her notebook in her bag and tossed it to the side as he appeared, glaring at her. "Ahh. Miss Berry. What a pleasure. I assume you're auditioning?" He didn't seem to like the idea of her auditioning but Rachel couldn't care less. She nodded, hopping off the piano and picking up the guitar. "Is that a problem?" She asked with a mocking tone and he shook his head, motioning for her to sing. Rachel smirked, looking down at the guitar as she played. Her voice was sad, haunting as it filled the auditorium. In a sput of the moment decision she'd chosen a song she had written. She felt all eyes on her and all talking and gossip stopped as she delivered a heart-wrenching performance.

When she'd finished she looked up and everyone but Santana was on their feet clapping for her. "Rachel," the director asked, "Did you write that?" Rachel nodded and he beamed, "It was brilliant! Welcome to glee!" Rachel nodded a thanks and put the guitar away as the gossiping started up again. She could hear that she was the topic as someone called out, "What caused that song Rachel?" The diva turned to see Kurt asking the question with a frown. "

Rachel just shook her head, "You'll have to read about it. I don't think my personal life is something I need to share with a group that gossips more than the entire school in Mean Girls." She forced a smile and sat down beside him. Santana finally spoke and she frowned at the Latina's use of Spanish, knowing only she understood, "Rachel. You and I are going to talk. I've heard that song before and I think you know exactly who I hear it from." Rachel's face paled and she didn't respond with words, only nodding. The bell rang and she stood, quickly making her way from the room. She didn't know how Santana had heard one of her songs, that one in particular before. Rachel had only ever sung them for Shelby, her dads, and Stella. There weren't many tapes of her singing anything really in existence so how in the world did Santana hear Rachel's song?


End file.
